Choosing the Short Straw
by gaki 0
Summary: B/V: 3-year timeline.  Sequel to Grasping at Straws.  Vegeta and Bulma deal with the consequences of their impulsive night.  In the process, their relationship attains another level of depth which neither participant understands.
1. In Debt

Chapter 1: In Debt

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><p>At first, her rejection had eaten at Vegeta constantly. Her words echoed in his head, <em>He cares for me<em>. Caring was not something the warrior did often. As he was constantly pushing himself to the maximum, he showed little concern for his own body. Caring for another was an absolute disadvantage to the Saiyan and in addition, that was not part of their agreement. He now could openly admit to himself that he felt a significant amount attraction towards his host, but not significant enough to allow for the weakness she seemed to desire.

After the weeks passed, his anger subsided to a residual roar that only returned when he felt the weakling's ki around the woman. Surprisingly, the human male was barely present at the complex. Vegeta assumed that the woman had wisely decided to not expose her pathetic mate to her house guest. He would still smell the man's scent on her, but was able to retain his shroud of indifference around the woman.

Vegeta's interactions with her were curtailed to orders which she took with hostility but still performed as he asked. In unplanned exchanges, she would verbally bait him with a familiarity that the man found discomforting. The woman was constantly contesting his attempts to seclude her into a distinct servant function in his life. Apparently, the woman enjoyed mentally brawling with him. Over the course of the following month, he allowed her to fill the role of combatant as well as servant. The uneasiness he had once seen from the woman had disappeared, and he found himself beginning to enjoy their occasional battles.

As the thoughts drifted through his mind, he was reminded of his quest towards a complete overhaul of his room in order to increase its capabilities. Three hundred times Earth's pathetic gravity was becoming ineffective. Regardless of his motives, it would be refreshing to get tangled in a decent shouting match. It was one of the days the human dubbed the end of the week, and he felt confident that the woman would be at the house. Exiting the gravity simulator, Vegeta scanned the area for her distinct energy signal. He found her in the shade of a nearby tree laid out underneath a dismantled bicycle covered in smears of thick grease. He smirked at the woman's ridiculous hobby.

A small box was sitting on the ground near one of her bouncing legs, and it was blaring an obnoxious tune. With a delicately aimed blast, the small object poofed out of existence. The woman removed her head from under the bicycle and looked at the burnt spot on the ground in confusion. He watched as recognition flashed across her eyes. Then her thin eyebrows came together in anger as she scanned her surroundings. As soon as she located the content Saiyan, she shouted, "What's the big idea, you jerk!" Seeing that he was not going to respond, she turned her nose up at the man and dived back underneath her vehicle. He could practically hear her thinking, _I'll just ignore him_.

Seeing another object awaiting destruction, the mischievous Saiyan shot a small beam at the towel bundled near her hips. As it bursted into flames, the woman leaped up from her prone position and let out a yelp of fright. She repeatedly brought her foot down on the flaming rag until it was merely cinders, and then turned her enraged eyes to the culprit of the seemingly spontaneous combustion. She stomped towards the man, put her hand on her hips and said, "Alright, you have my attention." Irritation danced in her eyes but anticipation also swirled in their cerulean depths.

Nodding his head in the direction of her project he gruffly said, "You're wasting my time on that ridiculous contraption." He could see that she was about to reject his classification of her favorite toy and his ownership of free time, so he continued speaking over her attempt. "You should be fixing the room."

Her face fell and she let out a huff of air. Then outraged shock overcame her features as she questioned, "What! It's broken…again?" The question ended in a pathetic squeak. When Bulma received no agreement or denial from the stoic man, she begrudgingly stalked towards his precious room.

He followed her silently as she trudged towards his room. As soon as she entered the room, she pinched two fingers around her nostrils. In a nasally voice she said, "Ew, It stinks in here Vegeta!" She waved one of her hands through the air for added effect.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and turning his head to the side, he said, "You've just forgotten what a man smells like." He looked at her out of the side of his eyes and curling his lip in mock disgust, he continued, "It's better than how you smell." He then demonstratively scanned her appearance.

At his comment, she looked down at her attire. Her small tank top which was once white, was now covered in thick smears of engine grease as were her shorts. The grease persisted past her clothes to infect her arms, legs and putting a hand on the bandana covering her hair, she confirmed its presence there as well. Her face then returned to look at Vegeta and attained a goofy smile. "Yeah," she agreed, "I guess it is an acquired smell."

Vegeta stared at the woman sternly, but could feel distant approval settling onto his face. The smell was definitely an acquired one, one that he had come to associate directly with his alluring host. He watched her as she turned to punch a few keys into his control panel to run diagnostics on the instrument. He anticipated an amusing outburst once the computer told her that simulator was completely operational.

"Initiate gravity simulation," he heard the familiar noise of the simulator engaging. The grease covered woman was slamming her fist on the large red button which was ignoring her command. The weak woman turned to him with panic clearly written across her features. The lights of the room turned a hellish red and the cold computerized voice continued, "Three hundred times planet's normal gravity." The smell of her absolute fear slammed into him as the severity of the situation fully overtook the woman. _Fool_, he thought to himself but whether it was in regards to the helpless woman or himself, he was not sure.

He managed to dash to her just a moment before the oppressive weight fell on him. He flared his energy aura around them in hopes of dulling the effects. He look down at the woman, she was clinging to his body, shaking in fright and emitting small noises of dread. She looked up at him, her face betraying the absolute trust that she held towards him.

He bent down to one knee, the other leg at a right angle and spooned the small woman against his body. She brought her head against his chest and dragged her knees in between his legs as her body seemed to melt into his. He stretched out an arm towards the panel at the base of the controls. With thoughtless determination, he released a powerful beam through the compartment containing the motherboard.

The chamber choked and shook as it attempted to maintain its purpose with its mangled components. The woman tried to dig her head further into his chest as whirling noises consumed the quaking room. Expecting an explosion, Vegeta wrapped his arms around the woman; one hand covering her head and the other sprawled across her back.

As the contraption stilled and became silent, the woman kept her face buried in his chest. He allowed his hands to relax to his sides and his blue aura to diminish. Something akin to fear was receding from his thoughts. He barely ever felt that emotion, but to feel it for another being completely surprised the man.

He kneeled in place for a moment attempting to sort through his thoughts and tried to not enjoy the feeling of her pressed against him. He heard her sniffling quietly and the wet feeling of tears brushed against his chest. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pried her body from his, both physically and mentally. With large watery eyes, she was looking at him with complete admiration. He had never had a person look at him as she did and his pride swelled at creating such a response.

She licked her lips quickly and then softly said, "Oh Vegeta." She took a deep breath and then smiled at him radiantly and emotionally squeaked out, "Thank you so much." She then darted her arms around his neck and leaped onto his body. She sat herself comfortably on his raised thigh and pulled her head into the crook of his neck.

Her emotional hug was absolutely oppressive to the Saiyan, but an arm still involuntarily draped itself around her back. He found himself once again battling with his desire to keep her in his arms, but his rational side won the fight. Prying her elated frame from his the second time, he stood straight, stepped away from her and turned around. "Don't expect me to save your pathetic ass next time," he gruffly said in an attempt to distance himself.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her nod knowingly. He then looked down at his body and sneered at the grease which now coated his skin. His eyes flashed angrily at the source of the grease which was now standing and beaming her ridiculous smile at him. "You'd better take a shower," she giggled in glee as her endorphins kicked in gear. "We can't have you walking around smelling like me." She then winked at him and turned her gaze to the gaping hole in the chamber's core.

The Saiyan took her advice and made his way to his residential chambers. After that event the Saiyan periodically checked on the woman's ki signature. He categorized her whereabouts and scrutinized the energy signals around her. He told himself if she were to be seriously injured no one would fix his training gear, but a small part of him still resented the practice.

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><p>The thick slime the woman had deposited on him had been hard to remove. He could still smell the lingering on his skin and cursed the effect it had on his mind. It smelled exactly like the best form of the woman: submerged head first in the control panel of his gravity room. He growled audibly at the thought and tightened his towel around his muscular frame.<p>

As he exited the bathroom, he discerned her tiny energy at his door. Before she could rap on it, he swung the door open in frustration. "What do you want," he barked at her.

She stood before him with a small amount of surprise on her face. She had removed some of the gobs of grease, but was still relatively covered in the stuff. She looked like she was holding her breath and a slight tinge of pink came across her cheeks. Her eyes travel to a well known scar on his shoulder and then shaking her head, she returned her gaze to his eyes. "What you did today," she started quickly, but then a slow smile spread across her lips and she sentimentally said, "It was really kind of you."

He felt his muscles flinch and his body bristled at her comment. "I'm not kind, you imbecile," he harshly responded to her overtly gushy statement.

She pursed her lips together and raised her chin in defiance. "Well, I'm gonna remember your act of heroism however I want," she cheekily responded to his agitated mannerisms and then dragged her lips into an insolent smile. Vegeta curled his lip and prepared to shut the door on her smiling face. She placed her now clean hand against his door and raised her eyebrows slightly. "I'll have it up and running by tomorrow, kay?" Her voice housed an overabundance of cheer that Vegeta felt uncomfortable around. He nodded his head in affirmation of her comment. She cocked her head to the side and softly asked, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

Vegeta released an annoyed huff and narrowed his eyes at the pleading woman. In a bored tone he said, "You're going to ask regardless." He watched as she tried to decide whether she should continue and then her eyes firmed in determination.

In a tone rid of its previous whine she evenly asked, "Do you miss your previous life?" She was looking at him with the expectancy of a child. As if she were thinking he would divulge his thoughts in a melodramatic life story.

"Every fucking day," he growled at her and slammed the door on her pretty little face. He did not like where their interactions were headed. The woman seemed to think they had an emotional connection. A shiver of disgust ran through his body at the thought of revealing his personal thoughts and feelings to another. He was not a man who needed to confide in others; the closest he could reach was boasting about his accomplishments.

When he was honest with himself he really did not miss that life. He had been allowed to be brutal and fought every day, but constantly looking over his shoulder for the sadistic lizard was something the man would never miss. On Earth, he was living a pathetically serene existence, but he never had to worry about being tortured or starved. He was provided with excellent training gear and suitable housing. The Prince missed the endless battling of his previous life, but nothing else. Currently, he was preparing for two intense battles. Both of which he awaited with eager anticipation.

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><p>The baseball star had not been to his girlfriend's house very often in the past few weeks. She regularly came up with excuses to meet elsewhere, and he was starting to become suspicious. It was almost as if she was trying to hide something in the house. <em>That's not the only problem<em>, thought the bandit-turned-upstanding citizen as he drove towards the Capsule Corporation complex.

His long time friend and companion had become distant. The time she spent with him seemed to be out of a necessity rather than a pleasurable experience. He had felt that from her after their visit from the time traveler, but a month ago that had changed. Her feelings had turned around dramatically and for a little while, she would cling to him like a baby monkey. Then she slowly dipped back into her current state.

He looked to the flowers and candy sitting in his passenger seat. Today he was going to surprise her with gifts, and they would spend the whole day in absolute bliss. _As long as he doesn't interrupt_, he thought to himself in anger.

If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he was actually jealous of the Saiyan. The man lived with his girlfriend and seemed to have some sort of power over her. He was not sure how he would define it, but Bulma was always quick to defend the evil man at any sign of degradation. It would not bother him if she did the same for her own boyfriend. The Saiyan was always debasing him, and she never rushed to his aid. He gripped the steering wheel at his bitter thoughts and continued down the destructive path.

Yamcha had noticed several occasions where Bulma was obviously ogling her house guest. She would shrug it off and say, "Well, he's practically naked." But Yamcha thought it was a pitiful excuse and held the other man responsible. Vegeta had absolutely no decency. He strutted about the house in small spandex shorts not considering the effect on the women of the household. Bulma's mother did not help with the issue; she merely egged on her daughter's growing appreciation.

The alien had even gone so far as to suggest having spent a night with Bulma. Yamcha shook his head at the thought_, Bulma would never_… As the idea crossed his mind a twinge of doubt entered his mind. The evil man's boast was around the same time that Bulma became interested in a relationship again. A confident smile came on the man's face as he realized a valid point. Even it something had happened, the current outcome would mean that the beauty had chosen him instead of the egotistical Saiyan. He still did not think Bulma would do something so reckless. _But then she has always craved adventure_, he thought to himself in a rebuttal.

His knuckles had now turned white by his intense grip. Everytime he thought about the man's statement from a month ago, he ended the internal argument in a dead heat. Giving up, he released a sigh and tried to forget about the obnoxious Saiyan. He and his girlfriend were going to have a happy day together.

Putting the car in park, he exited his vehicle and walked to the front door. Clearing his mind of his previous thoughts, he knocked on the door loudly. After a few minutes, the door opened and he heard her cheerful mother say, "Oh Yamcha, Bulma didn't tell me you were coming." She then stepped to the side allowing the man to enter.

"Yeah," Yamcha thought awkwardly, "It's a surprise." He then followed her to the kitchen as she pranced towards the counter. He set his girlfriend's gifts on the counter and turned to her mother.

She was picking up a large wooden spoon and then began to mix a large pitcher of liquid. "Oh, how romantic!" Bunny was swooning at the idea, and then she looked to the young man next to her. A look of momentary concern crossed her face before she walked to him and put her arm in his. "My Bulma dear," she then sighed in a dreamy way and continued, "She always places such strapping men around her."

Yamcha felt his teeth clench at her comment. The older woman was maddening; it was like she did not notice that her daughter and he were exclusively dating. He looked to the side petulantly and asked, "Is she here?" His voice was short and he suddenly felt guilty for speaking to the cheerful woman in that way. He looked at her and smiled in apology.

"She's in that gravity what-cha-ma-call-it." Bunny said nonchalantly as she turned back to her pitcher of lemonade.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation and thought, _Of course she is_. He then brought a hand up in the air and dispassionately said, "Thanks."

Exiting the house, the man quickly progressed towards the spherical object sitting in the middle of the Briefs' once beautiful yard. Stepping up the ramp, he saw the love of his life sitting in the center of the room with her legs spread out in different directions and a pile of circuitry sprawled across her lap. Even covered in grime and delved in her work the woman was absolutely beautiful. _And she's all mine_, his chest swelled as he thought. He put a hand on the door frame and satisfyingly said, "Hey babe."

Her head snapped up from its work and she curtly said his name in surprise. As he walked towards her, he noticed her bloodshot eyes and pale skin. His eyebrows came together in anger as he antagonistically asked, "How long have you been working?" He knew his girlfriend often worked until early morning, but it was nearing eleven and it looked as if she had not slept all night.

Bulma began removing objects from her lap and stood up slowly. She ignored his question and hesitantly said, "Listen," she then glanced towards the door, then back at him and continued, "You shouldn't be here."

Bulma looked disturbed by his presence, and Yamcha sighed as some of his previous thoughts surfaced again. "What?" he started briskly, "I can't visit my girlfriend's home?" He thought if he reminded her verbally of their relationship, she would snap back into that role.

Her tired face twisted in a yawn and she mumbled, "No … I mean, yes." She released a long breath of air and continued, "Just not in here." She then brought her body close to his and looked up to him. Her look completely deflated his anger. She interlaced her fingers in one of his hands and squeezing lightly she said, "Let's do this tomorrow."

He shook his head in disagreement and pleadingly said, "You need a break, Bulma." She pouted at his words. "You haven't slept have you?" he did not wait for her to respond. "Let's go lie on the couch and watch a movie or something." She looked back to the pile of electrical components she had left behind and lightly nodded her head. He then pulled her towards the exit and out of the Saiyan's sanctuary.

As they crossed the lawn together, Yamcha felt a prickle of energy from above him. He followed the signal with his eyes and saw the form of Vegeta on the rooftop. He was sitting with one arm draped across his bent knee and glaring at the human male with intense hatred. _Get used to it, Prick_, Yamcha thought towards the houseguest. The idea of the Saiyan lording over his girlfriend was like nails on a chalkboard. He quickened their pace towards the kitchen door after sending a hateful sneer back to the vertically challenge man.

As soon as they started the movie, Bulma's head fell to his lap and she drifted into her much needed sleep. He looked down at the woman lovingly and ran his callused hands along her slender neck. He did not understand why she pushed herself so hard for the selfish Saiyan. He was torn between two ideas. Rationally thinking, the inhumanly powerful man could save their race from the androids. But emotionally, he wondered if his girlfriend had less altruistic motives.

He allowed his head to fall back onto the pillows of the couch, running his thumb up and down the nape of her neck rhythmically. He felt himself drifting into a cat nap as contentment swarmed through his body.

"Yamcha," he heard a voice beside him say softly. "Do you want some lunch?" He looked to his right to see Bunny smiling sweetly at him with her head cocked to the side. He was about to shake his head when his stomach spoke for him. The rumble was loud enough for the older woman to hear, and she giggled in response. Walking out of the room she said, "I'll fix you a plate."

He gently lifted Bulma's head and slid his body out from underneath her. He grabbed one of the couch pillows and set her head on it slowly. She mumbled incoherently, shifted slightly and then fell back into her deep sleep.

He walked into the kitchen and sat down across from the gorging Saiyan. He had four plates that he imagined were once piled with food sitting in front of him. The man completely ignored the table's new inhabitant. Yamcha's eyes narrowed involuntarily as he grabbed a fork and shoved a pot sticker into his mouth. As he chewed his food, he thought to himself, _I have to say something_.

He swallowed the entire contents of his mouth and forcefully said, "She's not superhuman, you know." The other man's eyes bored into his as he continued his statement. "You can't keep pushing her like this." Yamcha watched as the man forked a few more mouthfuls of food into his mouth and chewed slowly. Doubt started to enter his mind, _He's not gonna listen to me_.

Then the man responsible for Yamcha's death spoke in his gruff voice, "She's returning services rendered." His unreadable face slowly morphed into a satisfied smirk as his eyes continued to gouge Yamcha's countenance.

Yamcha looked at the man in perplexed thought. He did not like how that statement sounded. The look on the vicious man's face made the comment sound sexual. His hand clenched into fists and slammed one down on the counter. "She's not a machine, you insensitive jerk!" He was screaming at the man across the table having completely forgotten about the sleeping woman in the next room.

The Saiyan let out a derisive snicker and mockingly said, "Insensitive?" He paused for a second as he flashed his incisors at his advisory and continued, "Quite the insult."

Bulma's mother brought another plate to the table and giggled like a school girl. "Oh, don't fight you two." She then flicked her hand through the air and said, "She'll choose who she wants no matter who wins this battle."

Yamcha looked at the older woman in disbelief. There were only two options: either Bunny was completely oblivious or he was. This argument was not over the rights to Bulma. She was his girlfriend, and more importantly, she would never actually choose this homicidal maniac over him. An image flashed through his mind.

Yamcha was picking her up for a date about four days ago. As he walked in the door he saw Bulma sitting in an uncomfortable kitchen chair wearing in a small red dress. An elbow was on the table with her head resting on the attached hand. Her eyes were dreamy focused on something across the room. She released a wistful sigh and a small pout graced her gorgeous face. As he entered the room, he realized her stare was directed at her houseguest retrieving something from the refrigerator.

His attention was dragged from the memory as the domineering man stood from his seat. The man looked down at him with disgust and said, "Do not interfere with my training, weakling." Yamcha was still stunned by the effects of Bunny's comment. He could not manage a comeback before the other man sauntered out of the room.

As the back door slammed, he rocketed to his feet and trudged back to the sleeping woman on the couch. He had full intentions of voicing his concern to his girlfriend but as his eyes fell on her peaceful form, he merely sat next to her quietly.

He spent the next few hours, mulling about his love life with discontented apprehension until she finally released a small noise and lifted her body. She reached her arms into the air and let out a small satisfied squeak. "That was nice," Bulma said as she turned to the man beside her. She then squinted her eyes at him in happiness and smiled largely.

Yamcha grimaced at the thought of disrupting her peace, but he had to talk with his girlfriend seriously. "Bulma," he started a little too harshly. Wrapping one of his hands around hers, he restarted more softly, "Bulma." She was looking at him openly and inquisitively. "Why do you owe Vegeta a favor?" When he asked the question, dread seeped into his mind in anticipation of her answer.

"What?" Bulma voiced her confusion and then in a slightly panicked voice she continued, "What do you mean?"

Yamcha noticed a small blush forming on her cheeks and his stomach flipped at its appearance. "He said you were fixing the gravity room for 'services rendered.'" The statement came out through clenched teeth as he tried to contain his anger towards the evil houseguest.

Bulma mouth formed a perfect circle as she realized his meaning. The blush dissipated from her face, and she giggled lightly. "Well," she started slowly and then biting her lip, she chose her words carefully. "The gravity simulator turned on while I was in the room, and he forcibly disengaged the drive." She nodded her head once in apparent satisfaction at her description. "I thought I would fix it, since," she paused again as she struggled with the words. "Since, the room would be operational if it weren't for me." She beamed at him, but he saw the apprehension in her eyes.

He thought about her explanation and reassigned the implications of her words. It sounded like the murderer had saved his girlfriend's life. Although he was happy she was still alive, he did not like that she was now indebted to the maniac. In disbelieving words the baseball star said, "So, he saved you." The statement caused his stomach to revolt in aversion.

Bulma bit her lip lightly and smile awkwardly. "I guess you could say it like that."

He felt like she was trying to tone down a hugely significant event in her life. _Why would she try and deceive me?_ He thought to himself. He would think about that later. For now, he wanted to enjoy her presence and have a relaxing day. Ready to put his anger behind him, he smiled knowingly at his girlfriend. In a joking manner he jeeringly said, "Great, now you're gonna develop some hero complex for him." He had expected his comment to lighten the mood, but Bulma response only intensified their discussion.

Her eyebrows lowered over her now cobalt eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," she said heatedly. Then she tightened her lips and asked. "Don't you trust me?" The question was so forceful, Yamcha found himself wondering if she was asking herself or him.

He shrugged his shoulders and coolly said, "Well, you're already practically a slave for him!" He did not like what he was saying, but he knew it was the truth.

She shot up from her seat in a rush of anger. "I am not his slave!" She shouted down at her antagonizing boyfriend.

Apparently, that idea sat as badly with her as it did with him. He had to make her realize that her arrogant houseguest was taking advantage of her. "Then why do you work so hard for him?" The venom in his voice surprised him, but he stuck by his statement and rose from his sitting position. He now looked down at her and saw a small amount of doubt flicker in her eyes.

She turned her head to the side and stared at an indistinguishable place on the floor. In a soft voice she said, "Indirectly it's not for him." She looked up at him hopefully as he digested her words.

It took him a few moments to recognize the double negative, and he wrinkled his nose in aggravation. "So, you admit that this work is all directly for him." He brought his hand up and lifted a finger to emphasize his point.

"Ugh," she sighed and threw her arms up in frustration. "See it however you want, Yamcha." She turned to leave the room and said, "I promised I'd have it functional today. I need to get back to work." With that, she left her boyfriend alone in the living room.

Yamcha's shoulders slouched in failure. Not only had he been unsuccessful in opening Bulma's eyes to the truth, he had also not had a relaxing day with her. Yamcha went to the kitchen and opened one of the draws. Grabbing a pen and paper, he wrote his girlfriend a small note of apology and stuck it between the stems of flowers. "Bunny," he questioned as he turned to her mother. "Can you make sure Bulma gets these?" The older woman nodded in agreement.

Yamcha skirted from the house in dejection. He hoped his girlfriend would cool her temper and allow herself to remember their relationship. He was feeling increasingly marginalized, but he knew he could preserver.

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><p>~~~ Author's Note ~~~<p>

I you have gotten through this chapter you should have also read my other story, **Grasping at Straws**. This is part two of that story.

I hope to hear from each of you (in the form of a review)! I love criticisms, compliments, and your opinions. If you see anything wrong, please let me know. I want to become a better writer!


	2. Reprisal

Chapter 2: Reprisal

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><p>Even though Bulma had decided to not pursue the strange relationship with Vegeta, she still continued to work diligently to fix the Saiyan's equipment. At first it was out of guilt for reneging on their deal and then it morphed into a way to ignore her current problems and bury herself in work. After she had nearly killed herself in the gravity room last weekend, she thought it would be wise to pay even more attention to the finer details of the man's haven. But, the past days had been completely absorbed by her Capsule Corporation duties. She had placed a new motherboard in the machine after the computer malfunction in an unrequited attempt to thank Vegeta, but she knew a pile of broken bots were waiting for her at home. The gravity room still required additional attention and now that she had caught up on her corporate responsibilities, she could turn her focus to the spoiled Saiyan's lair.<p>

Her work was consuming almost all of her waking hours, and she could temporarily forget about her hopeless mission while she tinkered with various projects. She filled the rest of her time fiddling with small projects or enjoying the casual romantic relationship she had reinitiated with Yamcha. The sweet but over concerned man filled her free time nicely with short dinner dates and dispassionate coital visits to his apartment. She was semi-successful at keeping her lover from aggravating her household with visits, but they still occurred and brought with them extra stress in her life. Reuniting with Yamcha was mercenary in her mind, but it allowed her to forget about her loneliness. The familiarity of their dating brought ease to her mind that could not exist in a newly blossoming relationship.

Stepping away from her ticking biological clock, she diverted all that concern to Capsule Corporation. Her father was getting older, and she would be taking over the business in a few years. _That's if we survive the androids_, she thought to herself bitterly. It was much easier for her to think about her legacy in terms of the company than in her offspring. She had always excelled in the research avenue and adapting to the managerial side was an easy, but painstakingly taxing leap for the bossy woman.

She acquired an office in the commercial laboratory building of the complex. It was not as comfortable as her own private lab, but it had become unwise to have business partners strolling about the family's residence. It only took one occurrence to settle that issue. One of the Capsule Corporation's lawyers had come to the house to get some last minute paperwork done. Everything in the household seemed to revolt against the idea of business coming home, one entity especially.

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><p>Derek opened the door to the front house without knocking just as Ms. Briefs had recommended. He felt uncomfortable walking into the richest woman in the world's house unannounced. The entry hall was empty, but he could hear noises from ahead and to the left. He swallowed his fear and stepped towards the noise. Meeting Ms. Briefs outside of work seemed wrong. Although the woman was a technically his boss, he could still see the poster of her that was in his college dormitory. When she turned eighteen, the heiress had decided to do a photo shoot for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. The poster was probably on every teenage boy's wall across the country. Her large breasts could barely fit into the small white top of her bikini. The left nipple was covered by a Capsule Corporation logo while her right could barely be distinguished through the thin white cloth. He remembered how she had seemed so open and playful.<p>

Derek closed his eyes and shook the thought from his head. _Pull it together_, he thought to himself, _she's not going to be lounging around the house in a bikini._ He rounded the corner to the living room to see a bush of blonde hair looming over the back of the couch. He cleared his throat and the head turned to reveal a disturbingly cheerful face.

"Oh," said the older woman before him. "Hello, young man." The woman stood up and pranced towards her visitor. "I'm Bunny, can I get you a treat?" The woman then winked at him and wrapped her hand around his small arm.

"Uh," Derek thought in confusion. He looked down at the woman that was old enough to be his mother. She wore a small tube top and a short skirt. Her cleavage was completely visible and as he peered down at it, he felt shame erupt through him. A small blush came to his cheeks as he answered her question, "No thanks, Mrs. Briefs." Her everlasting smile turned slightly down for a second before returning to its former splendor. He took a breath, "I'm looking for Ms. Briefs."

"Oh," Bunny said as she pulled herself closer to his thin framed body. "Of course you are." She then dragged the man out of the living room, through the kitchen and out the back door while saying, "She's by the pool."

_Pool?_ The lawyer thought to himself in dread. He then looked to the pool as he exited the house and sure enough, lounging on a patio chair sprawled his swim suit wearing boss. He gulped and tried to focus on her face, but it was in vain. Small collections of water had formed near her collar bone and little beads of sweat glistened across her entire body. The cloth was not white, it was beige, but it was close enough to his college fantasy that embarrassment engulfed him.

He heard the woman clinging to his arm speak. "Yoo hoo, Bulma." She was waving her other arm in the air to grab her daughter's attention. "You have a guest." She pulled Derek closer to the sun bathing beauty and then turned to him and said, "I'll get you two a drink."

"That's not necessary, Mom." Bulma said in exasperation, but her mother still trotted towards the kitchen. She swung her legs around to a sitting position, grabbed a glass of water from the table next to her and gulped down the liquid.

He watched as rivets of water slowly trickled down her creamy white skin and then looked away in shame. Once he had regained his composure, she was staring up at him expectantly. He smiled nervously at the blue haired goddess in front of him and shakily said, "I have those papers, Ms. Briefs." She was looking at him earnestly with the same professional face that she used in the office. He imagined that he would always think of her in a bathing suit when she looked at him like that in the future. He pushed the papers towards the woman and looked to the concrete to divert his wandering eyes.

"Oh, cool." She grabbed the paper from her employee and continued, "It's great of you to bring them by, Derek." She then moved one leg to the other side of the chair effectively straddling the object and leaned forward to hover over the papers.

Derek's eyes would not behave as he meandered over her exposed flesh. Her hips were near perfect and her legs were lengthened by her suggestive posture. He looked down at her chest and felt himself responding in appreciation. Then he felt something indescribable. Electrical energy was shooting around the air behind him. It was as if a high voltage reactor was exploding. He turned to find the source, and he meet two coal-like eyes that were glaring at him angrily. His thoughts of the beauty beside him vanished and a small part of him absurdly thought, _I'm gonna die._ He tried to move his mouth to speak, but the imposing figure before him disabled his ability to formulate words.

He watched as the eyes narrowed more and then heard the man speak in a deep, rough voice, "What are you doing." It was not a question. Derek was sure the man knew that he was inappropriately imagining the woman beside them. Time seemed to stretch on as the lawyer took a scared step backwards in reaction to the man's resentment.

He threw his hands up defensively and waving them in front of him in small sideways motions, he spoke in a squeaking voice that completely betrayed his fear. "Ms. Briefs asked me to come." He swallowed as he noticed one of the deadly man's eyebrows raise at his comment. "No, I mean," he tried to look away from the depthless eyes but was trapped by their glare. "I was…"

"Hey," he heard behind him, "Leave him alone, you bully." His blue haired savior then stepped into his view with one hand on her forehead in frustration. Then she placed the hand on the man's well defined arm and lightly pushed in an attempt to turn him around. "Just go back to training," said the petite woman who appeared to be trying to move a mountain.

The frowning man's attention was now solely on the woman. The man was looking at her arm which he traced with his eyes and then ran the heated glare over her body. On its trip back up her body, his gaze lingered on her chest before returning to her face. Derek could see a small blush spreading across her cheeks. He thought that is made her even more attractive. The man smirked at his boss suggestively before opening his cruel mouth to say, "Desperate again, woman?" The lawyer watched as he flashed a small amount of white teeth as his boss in a sneer of disgust.

Derek had a genius idea to try and offer an olive branch towards the man. He stepped towards the couple feeling as if he were interrupting a deeply intimate moment. He extended a hand foreword saying, "You must be Yamcha." He tried to vanquish his fear and smiled openly at his boss's boyfriend. "Pleased to meet you."

The dangerous man looked towards Derek in outrage which then settled into strict animosity. Derek could have sworn he heard the man release a beastly growl. His body seemed to grow with his anger, and Derek began to feel like a mouse cornered by a vicious animal. The lawyer clenched his teeth together in fright and turned to Bulma for help.

She responded immediately. "How bout I bring these papers to the office tomorrow?" Her voice was rushed and had a slight tinge of panic. She shook his still outstretched hand and said, "You can show yourself out." She then pointed to the kitchen door and he took full opportunity of her advice.

Derek had never run so fast in his life. Once inside the house, he breathed a sigh of relief. He honestly felt as if he had narrowly escaped with his life. He heard a sunny voice next to him chirp, "I've got Pina Coladas." He turned to the woman who was holding a frozen drink out to him. He waved away the drink and then focused all of his attention to escaping the house. Later when he thought back to the day, he told himself he had overreacted. No man could be that scary.

* * *

><p>She chuckled darkly at the memory and reached down to pull off the high heeled shoes from her sore feet. The shoes were one thing to which she was not adapting. She sighed and threw her feet on her desk in relaxation. Bulma had sealed a major deal earlier that day and decided to relax with a victory cigar. She opened the rectangular box which housed her celebration and pulled out one of the brown objects. Raising it to her noise, she sniffed the decadent scent. She then chopped off an end, stuck the object in her mouth and lit the cigar.<p>

Leaning back into her chair, she closed her eyes. She felt like her life was finally pulling together. In the cocoon of her office, she was on top of the world. No needy boyfriends, no noisy mothers and best of all no obnoxious houseguests. She sighed in contentment.

The moment did not live long as she heard a bustle outside her office door. "You can't go in there," she heard her secretary screech uselessly. Both of her large double doors busted open with such a force that she was surprised they did not break. In the door frame stood her favorite Saiyan looking as if he was about to tear her secretary apart.

_Well_, she thought to herself, _two out of three isn't bad._ "It's okay Delilah," she said confidently, "Just shut the doors." She brought the cigar back to her mouth and remaining in her relaxation position, Bulma looked across her expansive desk at her office guest. He was looking over his shoulder victoriously as if he had conquered a new territory.

She laughed internally and thought, _he must have been a sight to see in his purging days_. She had lacked the ability to observe him as candidly on Namek, but the man had definitely been impressive. There was something about his confident stance and his sadistic enjoyment of dominance that was bizarrely seductive. She remembered the way the Saiyan had savagely gripped her during their act of indiscretion. He had been desperately grasping at control which he barely maintained. It sent a small shiver through her body as she thought about her ability to nearly pry the man from his tightly embraced control. The man was always so intense and as she looked at him, she recognized that familiar alluring passion smoldering in his eyes.

Bulma released a slow breath through her nose as his focus left the now closing doors and came down upon her. She gripped the cigar with her teeth and flashed him a toothy smile. In response, he raised his chin at her in superiority, and she was once again struck with his majestic appearance. Vegeta managed to look imperial while doing the most menial of tasks; she imagined he would have looked magnificent as a King. A crooked smile graced her lips as she thought about life's unexpected twists. She was willing to bet the young Prince Vegeta had never imagined he would end up living on a peaceful planet with little to no sovereignty. A little bit of sadness entered her mind as she thought about the predicament from his stand point.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she draped an arm behind her chair and tapped the ashes of the cigar into a tray on her desk. Her blue eyes flashed playfully at her intruder as she said, "What can I do you for?" She knew what the man wanted. She had been absent from fixing his training equipment for what she imagined was an unbearable amount of time for her selfish houseguest. Bulma could barely believe that the impatient man waited as long as he did.

His frown increased at the innuendo, but he recovered his domineering expression quickly. "Half of your pathetic droids are down," he said briskly. He should have ordered her to fix the bots days ago, but the weekend's event had made him want to keep his distance. The trust he had seen in her eyes that day made his stomach flip in discomfort. He figured she would get to the bots eventually. Ever since she announced her unwillingness to continue their rendezvous, the woman had become extremely focused on her work. Fortuitously, her work had included fixing his training equipment. But unfortunately, the focus also brought the woman back to her previous ridiculously high confidence level. She was increasingly confrontational and although the Saiyan enjoyed the quarrels, he did not always want the distraction from his training. The most recent bot broke in the morning, and the quality of Vegeta's exercise regiment went down with it forcing the man to seek his engineer.

"Aw," she stuck out her bottom lip in a pronounced pout. "And why is that, Vegeta?" she asked in a mocking voice.

He narrowed his eyes at her playfulness and brought a knowing smirk to his lips. He could not help himself from taking her bait. In deliberately slow steps, he walked towards her messy desk. He could plainly see the woman taking deep breaths as she attempted to portray relaxation. He knew his demeanor was both frightening and exciting to the woman and he saviored the feeling. It was as if he were a predator playing with its meal before he devoured it. Vegeta placed his hands flat on the hard wood and noted the small goose bumps that had formed on her outstretched legs. Leaning over the large object, he huskily said, "because you can't keep up with a Saiyan." Her crossed feet were a few inches from his left hand. Looking at her long legs, he could see up her skirt to her thighs and then further to a dark blackness which hinted at the union of her legs.

Her skin prickled at the idea of a fight, and she just happened to be feeling especially boisterous that morning. Excitement and fear was mingling within her and swarming through her body. It felt like a good time to poke back at the man's blotted ego. "If I remember correctly," she said in mock coyness. "It wasn't me who couldn't keep it up." She looked at him with supreme confidence that she had just won that point.

She remembered the confusing thoughts and feelings that had flooded to her a month ago and how they had receded slowly to their current shallow depths. After her initial anger and shame, their quick and heartless assignation had plagued her mind. If she put aside his single minded selfishness, she was actually surprised that the perfectionist had not learned to properly please a woman. Vegeta seemed to always require perfection from himself. The man ate with perfect diligence and nothing in his room was ever out of place. He also was constantly boasting that he was superior to everyone and everything around him. The familiar thought floated into Bulma's mind, _Why was sexual superiority not on his radar? _It was not that the man had not pleased her at all, he just had not seen the need to satisfy her after he had reached the summit of his satisfaction. A small pout graced Bulma's face, just as it did every time that thought occurred to her.

Vegeta enjoyment at taunting the woman dissolved with her words. He was not exactly sure to what she was referring to, but he had a good idea that it was demonstrative towards his masculinity. The Saiyan would not be demeaned by the weak woman before him. He reared his head up at her direction and in his confused anger, he said, "What the hell are you talking about woman?"

In the comfort of her office and the afterglow of her corporate success, she finally thought it was time to uncover the mystery that was constantly absorbing her thought. "Oh you know," she cocked her head to the side and took a puff of her cigar. She released the smoke from her mouth and attempted to form little donuts, but they came out in strangely contorted ovals. She was clinging to her cool and detachedly confident demeanor with desperate strength. Then continuing in false innocence, "Your little premature…" Placing a finger to her lips, she raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought, "emission." Her eyes slowly descended to his hips then she blinked slowly and raised her eyes back to the Saiyan.

He heard the word 'little' and followed her gaze. Fury ripped through him, and he was quickly no longer playing with the human. His eyes blazed with anger, and he darkly said through clenched teeth, "little."

Bulma watched his transformation and rolled her eyes as he misinterpreted her words. _Men_, she thought to herself, _they're all the same_. In a frenzy of action, she watched as Vegeta grabbed the edge of her desk. She pulled her legs quickly from the object as he lifted and sent her desk flying across the room. The hundreds of papers that had been sitting in piles on her desk were sent flying through the air.

She threw her cigar down in anger and stomped towards the fuming man. "You idiot," she screamed into his face. He stretched out an arm to his side and blasted her desk into oblivion. She did not take her glare off his maniacal eyes. Most of her papers had now been transformed to either light wisps of ash or tiny fragment of parchment which drifted through the room like snow. "I meant you came before I did, you ogre!" She screamed at him in distress and swiveled her head to digest her now ruined office.

He immediately felt his flaring temper relax at her statement. Looking at her disheveled appearance, he let the statement sink into his thoughts. Her pleasure had never even entered into his concern. He had intentionally blocked the existence of the woman from his thoughts when he used her body. And now he learned that she wanted him to concentrate on her pleasure and not on his. He doubted there would be much enjoyment through that course of action. The expectations of the world once again bewildered him. So, the agitated woman before him had actually expected two elements: him to care and her to come. He could possibly learn the second, and he wondered if the first was actually required.

His face returned to its normal stoic mask as he tried to digest her meaning. He did not like that his intentions were being swayed by the little human. He also despised his inclination to grant her requests. She should be satisfied with the attention he gave her. He was the Prince of all Saiyans, and she was a miniscule blip on an indistinguishable planet. His desire returned to distance himself from the asinine blue haired woman. He grunted at her statement and spoke in his normal tone, "The droids are in your lab." Turning from her, he exited the room with calm decided steps.

Bulma felt all the air leave her lungs as he exited her office. The room looked as if it had been burned and smashed at the same time. She noticed her secretary peaking around the door frame at the destruction. Bulma puffed back up and walked to the woman. "Can you get this cleaned up?" She offhandedly said as she casually strolled past the amazed woman.

* * *

><p>The man ignored her presence when he came to pick up the reconstructed bots that next evening. He looked at her as if she were a member of an alien race whose culture he could not understand. She laughed to herself as she realized the truth of that thought. Sitting in the warm sun on an outspread blanket, the heiress downed another light beer. This weekend was welcomed with open arms, as a lot of her work time was taken up with replacing all the documents that had been destroyed by the enraged Saiyan.<p>

Bulma had been surprised by his reaction to her words that day. The Saiyan stature may be little, but she did not think the man had anything to be legitimately worried about. She had not been with many men, but he seemed to be endowed well enough. She giggled to herself at the thought which brought her mother's attention.

The older woman sat next to her glowing in appreciation. "I feel the same way, sweetie," her mother said with happiness. She then turned back to their view and took a sip from her frosted glass.

The two women had decided to throw a picnic in their backyard in honor of the training Saiyan there. It was her mother's idea to eat their snacks outside and as Bulma had spread out the blanket, the reason dawned on her. Her mother was practically infatuated with the man. The blonde could often be heard voicing her wish to be twenty years younger and hinting at what she would do to their houseguest. Bulma dreaded the thought of knowing all the scenarios that passed through her mind.

She smiled at her ridiculous mother and deceptively said, "I told him his precious room was down for diagnostics." A smirk graced her pretty face as she looked towards the man. He stood in the lawn, purposefully oblivious to his two spectators. He moved slowly flexing different muscles and transmuting a glowing ki around his body.

Her chipper mother replied, "Well, I don't mind the view." The older woman sat on her knees gazing blissfully at the training man.

Bulma chuckled softly and responded, "For once mother, I don't disagree." She looked at Vegeta's corded back and cracked open another can of beer.

The man had been completely brutal in her office. She cursed him silently as she remembered her ruined day. Violence was definitely deeply ingrained in the Saiyan's psyche. She wished that she could explain to him that physical intimidation did not necessary need to be his first step when encountering opposition. _You can't change him_, she reminded herself.

She sighed as she saw him reach towards the sky and slowly bring his arms down in an arc around his body. Each of his compact muscles flexed as sweat beaded across his tan skin. As she stared at the impressive view, her mind continued to wonder.

Alternatively, there were positive aspects to the man's personality. After a week of contemplation, she had decided that the gravity room experience had been one of the most powerfully intimate events in her life. Her body tingled as she remembered the way he sheltered her body. It had been completely different from the arrogant intimacy she had received from him over a month ago. As the red lights started to fill the room, she almost saw concern flash inside his depthless black eyes.

That may have been the first emotion Bulma had seen from him that did not stem from hatred. The Saiyan seemed to be completely incapable of emotional connection. As she thought about it further, it seemed as if it was even more than an inability. It was as if the man vehemently refused to allow the attachment. An ironic smile graced her lips as she thought, _he's so pigheaded_. She was confident in thinking that the warrior viewed an attachment of that kind as a weakness. Maybe it would have been during his awful upbringing, but on Earth attachments were perfectly safe.

She suddenly remembered that he did not plan to remain on her planet after he defeated Goku. Disappointment flooded her body at the thought of him leaving. She could barely imagine her life now without the pesky Saiyan around to torment her.

Bulma stretched her arms to her side and dropped her torso to the ground. Staring at the clouds that drifted around the perfect blue sky, she thought to herself, _when did things get so complicated?_ She positioned her beer on the blanket beside her and lifted her arms behind her head. Without his majesty at Capsule Corporations, she could enjoy peaceful, undemanding days. She would have more free time. She turned her head towards her mother and thought, _Mom would be upset though._

Hauling herself back to a sitting position, she took a few large gulps of her beer. She was going to clear her mind and attempt to enjoy the day with her mother. But the attempt was futile and turning to look at her companion, she said, "Do you think he'll stay after the androids?"

Her mother looked at her, a rare thoughtful expression passed over her face. "Well, I think there's a lot here to his liking." She winked at her daughter suggestively. One of her large smiles graced her face and then she innocently took another sip of her frozen daiquiri.

Bulma felt like her mother was hinting at something and automatically felt embarrassment. "I don't know if it's enough…" she said softly in response to her mother's statement.

"He'll come to appreciate all of it in time, honey." She smiled reassuringly at her daughter and placed a ranch covered carrot into her mouth.

* * *

><p>When the two women had organized themselves comfortably on the lawn behind him, Vegeta ignored their presence. He had decided that Earth women were a peculiar type of crazy that he had no patience to understand. He allowed his ego to be stroked as they confirmed each other's appreciation of his body. He almost felt pity for the human women as they were stuck with the pathetic males of their race.<p>

He focused his mind back to his training as his observers grew quiet. The woman claimed to be enhancing the software on his room, and he welcomed the opportunity to train in the warm sun. The rays poured over his skin, and he savored the heated feeling. He traced his cloud of ki with his mind in an ancient Saiyan control exercise.

His sensitive hearing distinguished a ridiculous question being asked by the confounded blue haired woman. Of course he would be leaving this backwards planet, and he would only leave it intact if they were lucky. His body was derailed from the control exercise as he heard the older woman's response. His fists clenched in frustration, and he turned around to address the two women. He would most definitely not learn to appreciate the lunacy this planet offered.

In a large harsh voice he shouted, "Take your ridiculous prattling elsewhere!" If he were not already agitated, he would have laughed at their response.

The older woman brought one hand to her lips in astonishment. The other one holstered her practically full can of liquid into the air and threw it at him in an abrupt outburst of temper. He quickly side stepped the hurtling can and shot a victorious smirk at the woman. It seemed as if the realization had suddenly dawned on her that she had just thrown her refreshment at him, and she pouted in frustration.

The infuriating woman then stood up and grabbed another drink from the neighboring cooler. She sauntered to him in slow steps, opening the can upon approach. Her hips swayed rhythmically as she approached the now apprehensive man. He was hoping to disengage himself from the woman, but it seemed that she had something else in mind. She stopped just in front of him. The hand with the drink was braced against her hip which jutted out dramatically. He watched in terrific fascination as the other hand descended upon his arm.

Her eyes turned from sinister to pleading, and he felt himself begin to be sucked into their blue depths. Her smell had begun to engulf his body. His subconscious responded to its calming effect like a dog being pet by its owner. She stuck out her bottom lip and sensually said, "But Ouji-sama," she paused to allow her words to linger in the air. His skin prickled as she once again mouthed his formal title. His mind flashed back to her previous usage of the word, and he felt his body responding uncontrollably. "Would you stay for me?" She batted her long lashes at him, and he felt alarm claw and tear up his chest. What scared the Saiyan more than death itself was that a small portion of him wanted to do just as she asked.

Suddenly, he felt cold, wet liquid splashing through his hair and down his face and back. He was immediately snatched from his revere. He growled at her and baring his teeth menacingly, he ominously brought his dark eyes to her frame. She stood with one arm hovering above his hand and flashed him a victorious smile. He batted the can away with anger and watched it sail away from him in satisfaction. He opened his mouth to yell at the obnoxious woman, but the words dies in his throat at her appearance.

She was in a fit of hysterical laughter. Her hands were clenched around her belly, and she was nearly toppling over from amusement. Her face had turned a reddish shade, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. She finally succumbed to her body's wishes by descending to a sitting position on the grass.

He closed his mouth and turned his head away in annoyance. She brought one of her hands to her eyes to wipe away the forming tears and said, "Thanks Vegeta, that's just what I needed." She then beamed up at him with an overpowering happiness.

He glowered down at her and harshly said, "I'm not here for your amusement, woman." The Earthling's priorities were completely misplaced. She was still staring up at him with entertained eyes. He turned away from her and stomped towards the house. _I'll kill her when I destroy this mudball_, he thought to himself in retaliation. As he passed by her equally insufferable mother, he could hear her trying to restrain her laughter equally as ineffectively as her daughter. He raised his chin into the air in superiority and growled, "You won't escape the consequences either!"

As he stalked through the doorway to rinse the vile liquid from his body, he heard the older woman say, "Oh, that sounds fun." He slammed the door behind him and retreated from the insane women to his bedroom.

* * *

><p>~~~ Author's Note ~~~<p>

Thank you for reading and please review! Thank you all for reviewing my last chapter. It's so nice to hear what you guys think.


	3. Revelations

Chapter 3: Revelations

* * *

><p>The older man stood in front of a neat row of twisted and flattened droids. His daughter had taken the brunt of their houseguest's destructive tendencies, but he now felt obliged to give a hand. Bulma was having a date night. He wanted to ease her responsibilities especially since she had started to take much of his business duties away from him. He turned to his ever present kitty and said, "Well it's gonna be a late night." The kitty mewed in response and jumped from his shoulder to rub her delicate little chin against one of the mangled bots.<p>

He grabbed a set of tools from a nearby table and set about to remove the internal wiring from the destroyed shells of the bots. The Saiyan trained as if his life were on the line. Every day, the younger man pushed himself to the brink of death, slept a minimal amount of time and then repeated the previous day's actions. Thankfully the alien race seemed to have an unparalleled ability to heal or his determination would have killed him. But that was not the only thing that was impressive about his houseguest.

The doctor was amazed at the Prince's ability to capture the attention of his entire household. His wife was absolutely enthralled. If Bunny was not so concentrated on obtaining the man as a son-in-law, he was sure she would have divorced him and ran away with the exotic man. He chuckled to himself at the thought. He had always been dumbfounded that the beautiful woman was happy married to a man like him. If he had not met her before he acquired his fortune, the reasons for their marriage would be apparent. But the blonde had loved him through his poor graduate student days and supported every one of his seemingly asinine inventions. He smiled to himself in satisfaction; she truly was an incredible woman. _Incredibly manipulative_, he thought to himself. His poor daughter constantly fell victim to Bunny's ploys. She was like a matchmaker from hell.

The doctor would be lying if he said he was not worried about his daughter's involvement with the brutal Saiyan. But he had learned the hard way that trying to sway her actions had devastating results. By thirty, Bulma knew how to take care of herself, and he had little business interfering with her life. All he could do was hope for the best and try and alleviate the pressure his daughter was under.

* * *

><p>The warm night air settled around the man issuing an oppresive weight with the memory of the long day. Vegeta stood on a thick branch of a large tree, one of his hands clenching the trunk furiously. He told himself to calm his temper and that this act of exploration was necessary to discover the truth. He closed his eyes and directed all his attention to the small ki located in the bedroom. He tried to interpret the small fluctuations and the resonance it created. In battle, it was imperative to decipher your enemy's emotions through their energy emissions. The Siayan felt that this situation was no different. Not only was the weak human male his enemy, but the woman was also his adversary. Without her involvement, the male would not have attained his hatred. She was the culprit behind his impossible situation.<p>

She was worried. He could practically smell her anxiety wafting into the night air. He knew the cause of this emotion. This was the first night that human had stayed for over a month. She feared a confrontation but the Prince had not given her the satisfaction. The moment Vegeta sensed the human's arrival, he barricaded himself inside his gravity chamber and then ascended to his perch on the roof. He descended to the tree once they enclosed themselves in her room. For one of the few times in his life, hunger did not consume him. Only anger and anticipation mingled in his body.

His sensitive hearing picked up the dialogue between the two humans that fluttered out of her open window. He reminded himself that his awareness was in order to divulge the truth. The pathetic male could not be giving the woman both of her requirements. The weakling could not be succeeding where he had failed. Vegeta could not accept the human's superiority to himself and tonight would prove his theory.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Vegeta heard the soft and cautious words of the male with ease. The human had his back to the window and was holding her shoulders, rubbing them softly. His pathetic sympathy agitated the Prince. The human definitely satisfied the woman's need for caring. The man poured out his compassion with uninterrupted continuance. It made Vegeta wonder at how the woman managed to cope with his excessive concern.

As if on cue, he could feel a little prickle of agitation come from the focus of his concentration. He could barely see the woman who was shrouded by the weakling's body, but he could hear her clearly. "Nothing," she said curtly. But then in a more soothing and sensual voice, she said, "You just wait right there." Vegeta could hear her footsteps across the floor and feel a tingle of excitement through her ki. She walked into an adjoining room leaving her male to stand between the bed and the window. Her ki was not emanating the same type of exhilaration Vegeta had felt during their exchange. It was a duller and a somewhat deeper sensation. This excitement felt more in tune with her mind.

He compared the emotional signature he was interpreting to something with which he was more familiar. Her current state reminded him of a calculated battle strategy rather than an impulsive and fury driven barrage of damage. With the human male, she knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew the results which her actions would bring both in her body and in her human's. Yet with him, as alien as he was to her, she reacted impetuously. She did not know what she would do next; she did not know what her actions would cause. This increased her anticipation, but also made her leery.

The Saiyan took apart the situation tactically, and he suddenly understood her attraction to both situations. Vegeta relished entering a battle with complete superiority. When he knew all the abilities of his opponents, there were no surprises. He could plan his attack with diligence and control every aspect of their engagement. It reminded him of when he first arrived on this planet. He had toyed with the pathetically weak inhabitants. He had used the Saibamen and Nappa like pawns in his calculated quest to acquire the Dragonballs. On the opposite end of the spectrum, he thought about his desperate and maddening venture on Namek. He likened his state of mind on that planet to the woman's reaction to himself. On Namek, he had little absolute control. He had to be stealthy around the still unbeatable Frieza; always aware that he could be destroyed at any moment. Vegeta remembered the rush of satisfaction that had consumed him when he defeated Zarbon and claimed Dragonballs. But, he also remembered the agony of defeat and his eventual death. The woman was playing it safe with her human.

The male's voice pulled him from his analysis. "Babe, that's hot," he heard the man say. Vegeta looked back towards the dimly lit room and narrowed his eyes at the scantily clad woman. She was now standing with her back to the window and looked as if she were positioned to pounce on the man near her bed. She wore a partially transparent dress that clung to her body like a second skin. He could barely see the swell of her backside as the fabric settled at the beginning of her long legs. Jealousy wrestled with Vegeta's concentration as his grip tightened on the tree, and he ripped a chunk of bark from the guiltless tree. He looked to his hand and dropped the crumbles of wood and clenched his fist tightly. As he felt her ki settle into a stable hum of satisfaction, Vegeta could feel his bones ache at the intensity of his compressed fists.

He heard the male being forced atop the bed with the slight depression of springs and watched as she stood over him in victory. She began sliding her hands down her sides and allowed them to rest at the hem of the dress. Vegeta then heard her speak in a deep sensual tone, "Like the outfit, huh?" The Saiyan started to feel disgust bubbling in his stomach. Hatred then pushed the feeling from him and consumed his thoughts. He saw her climbing over her bed like a feline as she straddled her human. She gave him an excellent view that he had difficultly enjoying given the situation. He closed his eyes as he heard the rustling of clothing as she undressed her partner. Vegeta stopped, calmed his mind and concentrated on lowering his frustration level. _She's with him because he's weak_, he reminded himself.

The humans smacked their lips against each other in what the Saiyan considered a disgusting display of affection. He glowered as he saw her lithe body moving sensually; her hips rocking slowly and deliberately. He growled as his groin tightened at the image. Her legs spread to the side, her back arching with each rhythmic sway of her hips. He took a deep breath and concentrated on her ki. It was beginning to spike with random jolts of enjoyment. He hardened even further as he imagined himself being the source of her pleasure. Vegeta admitted to himself that maybe concentrating on her sensations would not be as physically unpleasing as he had originally thought.

Vegeta heard the human male release a moan and the Saiyan went completely flaccid. He curled his lip in revulsion. Then he heard a soft and deeper moan come from the woman, and he remembered to only focus on her. She was facing the ceiling and he could see her closed eyes as she rolled her head side to the side. The bed beneath them began to squeak rhythmically and her ki released squirts of satisfaction. Each reoccurring rush of pleasure that emitted from her was less in intensity than its predecessor. The Saiyan felt his initial dread of inferiority melting.

A large bounce on the bed occurred, and Vegeta heard the male human fumble with an apology. The man was now on top of her and completely shrouded her body except for her two legs that jutted out into the air. Her ki released a wave of disheartenment, and her excitement level decreased dramatically. As if to rekindle her pleasure, she let a throaty noise of pleasure escape. Vegeta could read that it slightly increased her enjoyment, but not significantly. Alternatively, her partner seemed to be completely lost in the throes of his own pleasure. Vegeta smirked in victory and felt his hands unclench by his side.

"Oh, Bulma," he heard the human say loudly. Disappointment flooded through the woman as he heard her release another noise of gratification. Reprieve inundated Vegeta's body; the human was inept sexually. Then just after the weak male's energy signal peaked, he said something softly, "I love you." The result in the woman was dramatic. Happiness engulfed her senses and the disappointment completely vanished. She wrapped her hands around his head and brought him to rest against her breast which mounded out of the black fabric.

Vegeta sneered at the display he had witnessed. _Love_, he thought to himself. He humphed contemptuously and looked to the stars in the black sky above. He leaped into the night and increased his distance from the infuriating woman. He did not feel he had authority over his reaction. He felt both victorious and defeated. Vegeta was pleased that he had not been physically bested by the weak human. That should be the end of his response. But, he also felt beaten because the woman belonged to that inferior man. He shook his head as he increased his speed. He was torn between desire and logic. He wanted to own the woman entirely, but he also hated her existence in his life. He would not allow himself to be a victim of her allure. She had proven herself capable of distracting him at his own peril when she had soaked him with that bitter liquid the previous weekend. He would not allow her to sink her fingers deeper into his skin.

* * *

><p>Bulma had been uncomfortable with her boyfriend coming to the house. But she felt the need to invite him after their last disagreement. She understood why Yamcha felt threatened by Vegeta. If she was perfectly honest with herself, he was completely justified. The Saiyan was like a delicious pleasure she just could not kick. It was almost an act of retaliation to invite Yamcha to stay the night.<p>

She sat at the kitchen table sipping her coffee and staring at her cute boyfriend as he ate his breakfast. It was early in the morning and she still wore her small white night dress over her naked body. He gave her a contented smile when he noticed her gaze and then returned his attention to the meal.

Bulma then turned her head to the kitchen counter. A large section of the area was covered with plates piled with food. Her mother had cooked earlier in the morning for their house guest, but the Saiyan had yet to eat his morning meal. The food was surely cold. She was impressed by her mother's foresight to cook items that would retain their edibility with time. She smiled to herself softly at her mother's hidden intelligence.

Then her mind drifted towards her houseguest. He was probably pouting about her little sleepover. A little bit of pity formed in the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside. _This is my house_, she thought to herself, _and I can invite whoever I want_. She allowed the thought to become firm in her mind as she took another sip from her coffee.

"Everything alright, babe?" His questioning voice cut off her thoughts. She turned to him and saw his inquisitive face. Worry was also present in his eyes as he continued, "You seem distracted."

Frustration tried to take over her thoughts, but she refused the entry. She smiled at him and shaking her head, she said, "Nah, I'm just still waking up." She then raised her hands above her head and stretched upwards to decompress her back. Just as true relaxation began to take hold of her consciousness, she looked out the window. A streak of color had just blazed through the sky and her surly guest landed on the lawn. His intense eyes immediately locked onto hers and caused her breath to catch in her throat. She licked her lips slowly and dragged her eyes away from the Saiyan.

Her mother's bubbly voice could be heard from outside. "Oh Vegeta," she paused for a moment, then continued. "I have food ready for you in the kitchen."

For a second, Bulma thought about escaping upstairs. Her eyes shifted to Yamcha's and she saw him watching her as if he were analyzing her response. She tried to relax and smiled at Yamcha in fake ease. The outside door to the kitchen opened, and Vegeta entered the kitchen followed by her doting mother.

"You just sit down and I'll bring your food." Her bubbly voice grating against Bulma's nerves as it contradicted her inner feelings so grotesquely. Bulma took another sip of her coffee and sent a tight smile to her boyfriend.

The Saiyan seated himself in his normal spot and as Bunny placed the plates in front of him, he devoured the food without acknowledging their presence. Bulma watched as her mother pranced back outside and then let her eyes slowly drift to the Saiyan's form. Although Vegeta's hair was a little frayed and his clothes were dirty, he did not appear to be unusually agitated. She had expected either distant coldness or extreme irritation from him, and it seemed that she would receive the former of the two.

She sighed softly, but the noise attracted the Saiyan's dark eyes. They flickered to her quickly, he released a confident and knowing smirk and then returned his focus to his food. His look was one of complete dominance. It was as if he had picked her apart and knowing everyone of her secrets, he held complete power over her. Bulma felt her eyebrows crease involuntarily. His look said he had uncovered her secret and he was ready to torture her with it. And Bulma did not even know what the secret was.

Annoyance took over her apprehension and she loudly said, "What!" The man ignored her and continued to shovel food in his mouth. Her head whipped towards her boyfriend who mumbled something about calming down. She let out a huff of air as she felt her control over the situation slipping through her fingers. She was not going to live in fear of her own houseguest. "No," she firmly said, "You got something to say, Saiyan. Just say it." She was livid. Vegeta was making her feel like a foolish child.

Bulma heard the scrapping of Yamcha's chair as he rose from his seat and walked towards her. Her boyfriend wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her to a standing position. "Come on, Bulma." He said in a soft voice. "Let's just go upstairs."

She shrugged his hand away from her arm and leaning over slightly, she shoved her hand onto the table. Vegeta unaffected gaze met hers and she passionately said, "Don't you come into my house and look at me like that!" He still said nothing in response. She took a deep breath and watched as his eyes trailed to her breasts. Bulma face twisted into a sneer of contempt.

His eyes slowly traced her creamy skin back to her flashing blue eyes. He narrowed his lids as cruel satisfaction spread across his face. In a deep low voice he rumbled, "Easy is hardly satisfying," his lip raised slightly to reveal the whites of his teeth before he harshly questioned, "Isn't that true, woman?" His eyes shifted quickly to and back from Yamcha's standing position and locked once again at her raging form. His face was once again unreadable, his eyes impenetrable.

Bulma's stomach dropped at his words. She knew what he was saying and even worse, she knew it was true. Fury coursed through her as she tried to remind herself that the Saiyan was a tactical genius. She clenched her teeth at the man and took a sharp intake of breath through them. She brought a Saiyan-like smirk to her mouth and then said, "Well, dangerous isn't satisfying either." She then raised an eyebrow at him victoriously and tauntingly added, "Remember, Vegeta." His face remained unaffected.

Then she heard something behind her that filled her with dread. "Bulma," Yamcha's voice was hard and full of hurt. She held her breathe as she saw Vegeta's face slowly morph into the same confident and knowing smirk that had initiated their brawl. She turned to Yamcha who was now retreating from the room in defeat.

Bulma whipped her head around to Vegeta's and she whispered, "You're a Bastard." Without waiting for a response, she followed her boyfriend from the room and up the stairs to her bedroom. Her skin prickled with fear and her stomach was flipping with anxiety.

When she entered her room, Yamcha was already sitting on the bed. He was slouched and looking at his lap. She softly shut the door and took a seat beside the man. Bulma looked at his face and watched as a slow dripping tears fell down his handsome face. She felt awful. She felt like a horrible person. Yamcha was so sweet to her, and she had broken his heart so many times.

His voice came out raw and choked with emotion. "Just tell me the truth Bulma," he took a breath and then continued, "Have you had sex with him?" His face looked as if it were about to disintegrate under the pressure of his question.

Bulma looked down at her hands. She could lie or she could twist her words so the truth was hidden. But Bulma felt she owed it to her long time friend. As she tried to form the words, she was surprised as tears began to cascade down her face. She wiped them from her skin roughly and drawing a leg onto the bed, she turned her body to face her boyfriend. She took a shaky breath and he nodded dejectedly.

He uttered one word at her unspoken affirmation, "When?" Yamcha was not looking at her. He was focusing on a small section of her bedroom carpet.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Last month," she said the words softly and in defeat. His shoulders shook slightly as he contained his emotions. "We weren't dating," as she started down the path of defending herself, she felt the need to defend even herself even more. "He means nothing to me, Yamcha."

These words caused Yamcha to turn to her. His eyes were angry and his face was covered in disbelief. "Bullshit," his words were harsh. Bulma understood his anger and bit her lip as her face began to crumble. She controlled her sob as he continued, "wake up, Bulma."

She shook her head at his words and through her constricted throat she spoke, "I…" She did not know what she wanted to say. Bulma was not sure if she could say anything. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. When she opened them again, she knew what she wanted to say, "I love you." When the words left her mouth, she knew they were true. She did love Yamcha. But she also knew something else: she did not love him like he loved her.

Yamcha's face reflected the realization that had just occurred to her. A sad dejected smile came across his face as he looked into her eyes. He then swallowed thickly and said, "Just be careful." He sounded so defeated.

Bulma shook her head with determination. With resolve she said, "I'm not making that mistake again, Yamcha." She wanted to beg him forgiveness and for him to accept her back into their relationship. His body was completely deflated. She began to form the words in her mouth, "Yamcha, please…"

He raised his hand into the air and sadly said, "don't." Tears began to fall down his face in rapid succession and a sob racked his shaking frame.

Bulma knew it was finally over. Their relationship which had spanned so many years was now coming to a decisive close. She also began to cry more furiously as the finality of the moment seeped into her consciousness. She brought her arms around him and held him as they continued to mourn the loss of their love.

* * *

><p><em>I hate him<em>, Bulma thought to herself as she stared at the swirling red liquid in her glass. _He's a Jerk_, she reminded herself petulantly. She knew the tactful little Saiyan had purposefully goaded her into revealing the truth to Yamcha. Why would he do that? Jealousy, vengeance, resentment. She decided what it was and repeated the words out loud, "He's a jerk." She nodded her head as if she were agreeing with the person that had spoken.

Lifting her glass, she took another gulp of the liquid and set it back onto the coffee table. Bulma looked down at her position on the floor and sighed with sadness. She had a good thing with Yamcha. He doted on her, he gave her space, and he did not expect a lot from her. Then she had to be a fool and start taunting her houseguest again. _I'm an idiot_, she thought to herself.

Bulma was weak. She pouted at the thought and lulled her head back to the couch cushion. The pesky Saiyan attracted her too much and he knew it. Not only did he know it, but he used it against her. "He's a meanie," she said to the empty room as she crossed her hands across her chest.

Bulma nearly died of fright when she heard a rough voice from the doorway behind her. "Who is?" She swiveled her head to see the man of her loathing leaning casually against the door frame.

She scrunched up her noise in hatred and turned her head away from the offensive man. "You are," she said the words like a spoiled child. And she felt like one as she selfishly thought about losing her boyfriend. He walked into the room and gave her a look that plainly said he was looking for entertainment. She scrunched up her face in annoyance and said, "Go away."

He raised an eyebrow at her and mockingly said, "Inebriated again, woman." Her eyes narrowed at him, but then slightly relaxed as she took in appearance. Her eyes traveled across his exposed chest as she reflexively took a large gulp of her drink. He chuckled darkly and then added, "Try and control yourself."

Bulma's blue eyes snapped to his, and she spit words from her mouth, "Go put some clothes on!" She then turned her head away from him and closed her eyes in disgust.

He took a step in her direction and her attention was once again captured. "That's not what you wanted last time," he said teasing her towards a battle.

Bulma shot up from her seat on the floor in retaliation. It caused her head to rush, and she realized that she had definitely drunk more than she should have. She let out a little moan of pain and brought a hand to her head for relief. She pouted and said, "I'm going to bed."

He sneered at her and derisively said, "Need help, woman." She glared at him and turned to exit the room. Before she could leave, in a bored tone he said, "I take this to mean that you're rid of that pathetic human." He smirked as he awaited her reaction.

Bulma whipped around, winced at the sudden movement and then shouted, "No thanks to you!" She took a few steps towards him and poking him in the chest, she said, "You're just a mean, little, jealous Saiyan." Under her finger, she could feel his chest vibrating as he emitted a barely audible growl. His face was twisted with barely contained fury, but her attention was drawn to his vibrating chest. She flattened her palm where her finger once poked and stepped further into his body. Bringing herself closer to his chest, she softly said, "You growl like an animal." He stopped the noise at her statement, and she looked up at him in confusion, her anger starting to melt away. His familiar warmth surrounded her and as she remembered her gravity room experience, butterflies danced about in her stomach.

He bared his teeth at her and darkly said, "I am an animal." She nodded her head in agreement and dropped her eyes back to his body.

A rush climbed up Bulma's body at his words. He was like a feral beast that only she could tame. She shook her head at the ridiculous thought and began to move her fingers across his smooth skin. She watched as his chest steadily rose and fell with each of his calm breaths. Staring at his body, a sudden feeling of shame engulfed her. What was she doing? She took a step away from his welcoming warmth and dropping her hands to her side, she looked down to the floor. She whispered to herself, "I'm such a whore."

Vegeta responded to her barely breathed statement immediately, "Not a very good one." Bulma looked at him in outrage and puffed her chest out in anger. He chuckled at her response and continued, "Usually they don't treat their customers so poorly." He took a step forward and grabbed her arm just beneath her shoulder pulling her body closer to his.

Bulma looked to the ground in sad contemplation. First, she was upset because of her libidinous thoughts and then, offended because she might not be sexy enough. She sighed in confusion. Her gaze turned to his hand that now encircled her arm; she moved her shoulder slightly and looked up at the Saiyan in annoyance. "Let go of me," she said evenly.

Vegeta did as she asked, but did not step away from her body. He watched her closely as her face relaxed, she looked to the side and then returned her gaze to his eyes. She took a shaky breath and then brought a hand up to his face. He flinched away a minuscule amount as she brought her hand to where his hair began. She then forced her whole hand into his thick mane and ran her fingers down the back of his head to the nape of his neck.

Bulma was not sure why she was touching him, but she did it never-the-less. The Saiyan always made her feel lost and confused; she was unsure of each movement she made_. _She hated the feeling; she wanted to be bold and unafraid. Her eyes stayed focused on his as she brought her hand to his neck and played lightly with his hair there. He showed no emotion except for the small amount of hesitation when she first touched his hair. She wondered why he was allowing this. She took a small breath of air and licking her lips slowly, she raised her body and brought her lips to his. It was not a passionate kiss. It was a light brushing of skin. Bulma returned to her normal height and looked searchingly into his eyes. They were completely unreadable. He looked exactly as before she had kissed him. Bulma blushed slightly, brought her hand back to her side and looked down to her feet before softly saying, "I don't know what I'm doing."

His voice was as gruff as ever in his response. "Yes, you do." Her eyes shot to him in question. With his same impenetrable mask he continued, "You're trying to show me how to care." He paused for a moment as she contemplated the statement. "I never will," he added in a cold voice.

Bulma's brows creased and she felt herself become agitated. "Because, you're a jerk," she said in a matter of fact voice.

Vegeta smirked at her and bending slightly to hover barely an inch from her face, he said, "exactly."

She began breathing heavily causing her chest to heave in the effort. What he made her feel was absolutely addicting and at this moment, it was better than caring. "Kissing is part of pleasure," she paused and gulped some air, "and not always about caring." The words left her mouth, and she immediately felt guilty. She had just kissed Yamcha that very morning. She brought her head down to look at the floor in shame.

Vegeta brought a hand to her waist, wrapped it around her back and then trailed it up her spine. His forearm forced her chest upwards and her body arched lightly into his chest. She sucked in a quick breath and brought one of her arms to the shoulder that was attached to his offending arm. His face was still unreadable, but she did not have to read his intentions from his expression. _Shame be damned_, she thought to herself hazily. His hand lightly wrapped around the nape of her neck and some of his fingers entangled themselves in her hair. She licked her lips subconsciously as he wet his slowly with his tongue. Bulma looked at his dark eyes and then closed hers expectantly.

His lips brushed against hers in the same manner she had done earlier. She parted hers slightly and lightly sucked on his bottom lip. He responded by doing the same to her. She moaned softly as a rush of desire clawed its way up her body. The next time she brought her lips around his bottom lip, she ran her tongue over it sensually. A deep guttural noise left the Saiyan as she felt another hand grab her hips and force them to his warm body. She once again went to brush his lips with her tongue and his met hers with fierce determination. She completely pressed herself against him and brought her other hand to wrap around his neck. She could feel his excitement and in return, she felt hers escalate dramatically. _Oh God_, she thought to herself as she became completely enthralled by him.

Reeling away from him, Bulma turned her head to the side, opened her eyes and took a series of short ragged breaths. She pushed away from him and he released her without hesitation. Looking back into his eyes, she was amazed at his lack of emotion. He did not look as if he had just taken part in his first passionate kiss. She felt a small amount of irritation flutter through her as she realized the kiss that had been all consuming to her meant nothing to him.

She stepped away from him and looked to her side petulantly. "Maybe," she raised her nose into the air, "I have had too much to drink." She looked back at the now smirking man and continued, "I'm going to bed." As he opened his mouth, she raised her hand in the air. With a decisive tone she said, "And no, I don't need your help."

* * *

><p>Bulma woke with her memory fully intact. The cursed herself for her actions the previous night, but also cursed Vegeta for existing. She printed the gravity room's diagnostic report, got dress and sat on the second floor balcony to enjoy the beautiful day. <em>I'll just play hooky today<em>, she thought to herself as she stretched out under the warm sun. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent of the morning. Her body immediately began to relax and her mind drifted over the previous day's events.

Yamcha had actually ended their relationship. He could not deal with the thought that she had slept with her houseguest. Bulma tried to think if that was actually the reason that the man had made the decision. She had not cheated on her boyfriend, but it affected the man as if she had. She opened her eyes and watched the clouds drift by in their slow meandering way. The real reason Yamcha could not stay in the relationship was because she paid too much attention to the irritating Saiyan. When she had told her longtime friend that Vegeta was not important to her, Yamcha had completely rejected the idea.

Bulma looked to the pile of papers on the table in front of her. She had to admit that Vegeta meant more to her than just his fighting ability. She sympathized with the man's hard life, and she wanted to give him a better one. But that was the same thing any compassionate person would do for the long suffering man. It was what Goku was doing. _Why is it wrong when I do the same?_ She thought to herself in response. Even those attempts to fool herself were futile. She knew she was doing more than Goku. She wanted more than her innocent friend. It was not anxiety for his happiness that led her into Vegeta's life. It was not altruistic concern for the future that made Bulma assist the Prince so vehemently. The androids merely gave her an excuse to interact with the intriguing man.

Yamcha had seen all of that, and Bulma knew he saw it. She tried to isolate him from seeing her interact with the Saiyan, but that only made her boyfriend more suspicious. He had the right to be leery. Apparently, Bulma could not keep her hands off the Prince if the opportunity presented itself.

She released a loud sigh and reach over to pick up the stack of papers in front of her. The diagnostics told Bulma two things: both the circuitry and the structure were decimated. It was an absolute wonder that the gravity room was still functioning. She would have to spend the entire week rebuilding the machine. Her only reward would be a Saiyan irritated about losing his precious training time. She turned her head to look at the spherical structure sitting grotesquely on the bright green lawn.

Lights shot out of the small port windows in a frenzy of destruction and it reminded Bulma of the laser displays she had seen as a child. She thought about her childhood wish of an infinite supply of strawberries. Then she thought about her second wish: her Prince charming. She scoffed a laugh as the irritable Saiyan Prince came to her mind. Whether he would admit the fact or not, she realized that the man had been trying last night. It had not seemed that he had been particularly enthralled with the idea of kissing her even if his body had reacted. Bulma was not sure whether he had acted out of his colossal pride or actual desire, but he had been trying to please her. Interpreting the man's motives was like trying to read a foreign language. Whatever his reasoning, Bulma had not only taught the enticing man how kiss, but she had also shown him how she wanted to be kissed. It was like giving a murderer a loaded weapon. She brought her hand to her forehead and shook her hand in shame.

Bulma heard footsteps behind her and swiveled in her chair to see Yamcha standing behind her is discomfort. She was surprised to see him so soon after their breakup and wondered at his appearance. He smiled sadly at her and said, "I just came by to get my stuff." He looked to the ground in unhappiness.

Bulma smiled at him brightly and said, "You wanna sit down?" She motioned to the seat beside her and continued, "We're still friends, right?" She had known the man for so long that the idea of losing him completely seemed entirely foreign. He nodded his head in agreement and shuffled to the seat beside her. She watched as his eyes scanned the papers that lay in the table. Bulma decided to not be disheartened or uncomfortable around her ex-boyfriend. She took a breath, looked at his sad eyes and said, "Yeah, I've got to completely rebuild the thing." He responded by looking at her with defeat. She smiled at him cheerfully and maintained her unbiased conversation, "I guess that means I get a vacation from my real job." She laughed lightly into the tense air.

Yamcha smile lopsidedly at her and softly said, "Yeah." He turned his head and looked at the large contraption on the lawn. "Bulma," he said her name as if he were remembering a long forgotten memory. "Promise me you'll be careful." He was looking at her with desperate earnestly.

At first, Bulma wanted to scoff at his insinuation, but then she remembered what she had been contemplating earlier. That thought sobered her reaction and allowed herself to look at him with understanding. Rising from her seat, she walked towards him and said, "Get up!" She was speaking with authority, but smiling with playfulness. "I want a hug and yes, I promise to be careful."

As the tall man stood from his seat, Bulma wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled herself to him. He dragged his arms around her ribcage and then stepped back. Looking down at her, he smiled and said, "I'll go get my stuff."

Bulma quickly nodded her head and watched him walk from the balcony. It would work out eventually. They would never be lovers again, but she was sure that they would be friends. She once again picked up the stack of papers, stood up and made her way to the living room. She sat down in one of the chairs and suddenly began to feel helpless in their struggle to prepare for the androids. Her only contribution was giving training toys to Vegeta who would most likely end up being Earth's next enemy. She bit her lip at the thought of the Saiyan as a marauder. Sometimes she was her own worst enemy.

Bunny peaked over into the room, sat gently on the couch beside her and beamed at her daughter. "Look what I just picked up," she said with absolute fascination. Her hands each held a try of delicious treats and in a cheery voice she questioned, "Snack, honey?"

Bulma did not feel like having a snack and she told her mother so as she set the papers aside. Her father came into the room shortly after and their conversation turned towards their ever present houseguest. He was like a plague; impossible to ignore and completely infectious. She heard her mother babble about Vegeta's admirable characteristics and his potential to be husband material. Her mother was completely deluded. As she glanced at her father, she was assured that he was thinking the exact same thing. She smiled at him with a hopeless expression and grabbed a cupcake from the tray. A small blush came to her cheeks as she thought Vegeta definitely had potential, but not as a family man.

* * *

><p>~~~ Author's Extremely Long Note ~~~<p>

You all know what is coming in the next chapter…since this is one of the few scenes that we actually see in the anime. Maybe you noticed, but I took the liberty to change some of the dialogue.

Thanks for your reviews! Although I must admit, many of you readers are not contributing to the growth of the story. Tsk…tsk…there was only a 2% chance of receiving a review from a read in the first chapter and a 3% in the second chapter. Dismally low, if you ask me. Is that normal? I think the writers should unite and start a **Review Revolution**. Kind of catchy don't you think? I can already see flashy posters littering the streets and super secret meetings in cellars with my comrades.

But in all seriousness, apparently my story is incongruent with what future Bulma told her son about why Yamcha and she broke up (that she got tired of his playboy habits). Here is my explanation:

Trunks went to the past in an attempt to change its future. He changes more than just Goku's lifespan. In altering that time line, he set about events to occur that did not occur in his timeline. He made that timeline (the one in which this story is placed), aware of its impending doom. This changed every character: their motives, their dreams, even their fears.

Maybe the future Bulma didn't feel the need to experience more in her life and she didn't see the frugality of their relationship because there wasn't a ticking time bomb of death around the corner. The future Yamcha also didn't feel this impending doom and that made him more flamboyant, more nonchalant. It allowed him to be more flirtatious with his groupies. Maybe it even made Vegeta less attached to Earth because his only goal was to defeat Goku. The planet didn't offer any other challenge to the man. Vegeta and Bulma didn't bond the same way because she didn't look to him as her possible savior. If she did want to spend more time with him, Bulma didn't have the excuse of him helping them with the androids. Maybe she tried to be around him more and was flirtatious. Seeing her own actions made her even more critical of Yamcha's actions. His playboy behavior was magnified by her own actions. Not understanding her own attraction to Vegeta, but understanding her anger at Yamcha, future Bulma broke up with Yamcha for being a playboy.


	4. The Choice

Chapter 4: The Choice

* * *

><p>Vegeta did not like to be played a fool. He quickly deflected a blast that was hurtling towards him at an immense speed. Not only had the idiot Kakarot made a fool of him, but now the infuriating woman was also attempting to trick him. Another blast shot through the air and hit him directly between his shoulder blades. He screamed in a mixture of fury and pain and sent a power beam of energy towards the offending battle droid. The room shuttered as the droid was forced into the wall and then returned to its stagnant position.<p>

Vegeta could easily sense the weakling's presence. He felt them embracing in a disgusting demonstrate of emotion. Every nerve in his body despised the blue haired woman. Rage, shame and revulsion ripped through him and consumed his mind. Last night, he had allowed himself the idea that the woman would be his. He had fallen asleep with the satisfying idea implanted in his consciousness. He had been a fool.

In reality, he was merely a deserted Prince living in the shambles of his previous life. Bested by his inferiors, he had allowed himself to be second in strength and in affection. His energy level climbed to staggering heights. He felt his muscles bulge, his teeth clench, and his aura grow to a dangerous intensity. In the red light of the gravity room, his mind became completely engrossed with bitter anger. _I will become Super Saiyan,_ he told himself in frustration. Then he would have to strength to destroy everyone who dared to dishonor him. He would tear out her heart and watch the life diffuse out of her eyes.

He concentrated on the ball of energy that the droids deflected around him. _I will succeed_, he yelled to himself. A blazing blast of energy hit him again and knocked him to the ground. He slammed his fist on to the floor of the room and gritted his teeth. The pain and rage engulfed his entire body as he looked up to notice another ball of light hurtling towards him. He threw his hand up and sent an equally sized ball of energy to intercept the careening one.

It was not enough. It was never enough. Frustration racked his body and transformed into a surge of momentous energy. The power radiated though his entire body as he fought against the impending sphere of energy. _So close_, he thought to himself in single-minded determination. He pushed his body even further to increase the intensity of his blast. Light exploded from the battling spheres and spread throughout the entire room.

The shockwave knocked him against the far wall and he felt fragments of metal slamming into his chest and legs. He attempted to bat away the incoming objects, but then it became too much for him to handle alone. The roof began to descend upon him and the floor tilted at an awkward angle. His body began to slide uncontrollably with the debris and the Saiyan was incapable of stopping his descent. He was propelled from the room to a pile of rubble and he felt a crushing weight fall across his entire body.

Vegeta immediately began pulling his damaged body from the wreckage. He could barely tell which direction was up, but he forced his body to comply with his wishes. His hand was his first extremity to emerge from the jagged pieces of his broken gravity room. Following the path it had taken, he tore himself from his prone position underneath the ruins and stood up out of sheer determination. He held his eyes closed as he tried to assess the damage that had been done to his body.

Opening them, he saw the woman and her pathetic male sitting on the ground beside him. They both looked entirely shocked. The woman mumbled something and he curtly responded without thinking of the words that grunted past his lips. At her mention of destroying her home, he attempted to hold himself in his accustomed stance of pride and dominance. But, he failed as he felt himself descending back to a prone position. He could feel her soft hand touching his skin and draping across his chest. He winced at the reminder of the deep scar she was lightly caressing. He could hear the layers of concern in her voice. He snapped at her and tried to remove himself from her clutches, but fell on to a pile of rubble and into the tortuous memory that her touch had brought.

* * *

><p>He had been locked in the dark cell for days with all of his strength beaten from his body. All he could do is sit in a pool of his blood and attempt to stay conscious. He had disobeyed a direct order from Frieza and as a result, Zarbon had been allowed to torture him as he saw fit. The man had always taken a sadistic pleasure in causing pain, especially to the pain tolerant Vegeta.<p>

He heard the creaking of metal grinding against metal as the door swung open and revealed the delicate features of the aqua colored man. Underneath a muffle of pain, he heard the man speak. "Tsk, tsk. All you have to do is apologize, little monkey," his feminine voice made the hair on his tail bristle. The man then stepped through the door and sauntered towards the downed Prince.

With his gold tipped boots, he lifted the chin of the Saiyan towards his direction. The swollen bruises that had once speckled his cheeks and temples had faded to a sickly yellow. Zarbon had to admit that the Saiyan had an incredible healing ability that he coveted. "Such appealing features are ruined on a barbarian like you," the man said to himself more than his victim. Vegeta tried to growl in response but the blood that had pooled in his throat and chest prevented its formation. Rather than an intimidating warning, the noise was a suffocating gargle.

Zarbon laughed at his attempt and deridingly said, "Point proven." He then lowered his foot to the man's chest and proceeded to shift his weight onto the bulky man's rib cage. Two solid cracks echoed through the room and the blue minion chuckled darkly as he broke the thin bones that protect the monkey's internal organs. Over the course of the days, the aqua man quickly realized that the Saiyan's injuries were healing in between bouts of torture. He decided to take part in an experiment to see if he could actually scar the quickly healing man.

He raised one of his fingers and aimed for the man's right shoulder. The hot beam sliced through the Saiyan's skin ripping open the partially healed wound. He watched as the man's eyes grew darker, but he still did not reveal the pain that must have been coursing through his body. Lifting his white boot from the man's chest, he then descended the object down on the small tip of tail that was flicking next to the man's waist.

Pain rippled through the Saiyan as the most sensitive part of the man was flattened into the hard concrete floor. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Vegeta focused his attention to the pain that radiated from his tail. Rather than blocking the pain, the man embraced it. He tried to pinpoint the exact nerves that were causing his debilitating position. His ignored everything else in the room. The vindictive alien that stood over him faded from his consciousness and the cold, blood soaked floor no longer existed beneath him. He blinked his eyes open and all he saw was blackness before he drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Bulma sat on the small, uncomfortable chair with her legs tucked into her body. Her chilled arms were wrapped around her legs, and her head rested on the top of her knees. She focused her eyes on the sleeping man beside her. She had never seen the man so defenseless. It was foreboding to see him lying so still and unaware of the world around him. His chest was rising slowly and steadily shrinking back with each of his long sturdy breaths. He was in excellent shape for surviving the catastrophic collapse of the gravity room, but he had yet to wake.<p>

She wrapped her hands even tighter around her legs as worry once again welled in her chest. He had been unconscious for a full twenty four hours since the explosion. His wounds were still seeping thick red blood which she had dressed diligently throughout the time. Bulma stretched out her arms and slid her feet to the floor. Walking to a nearby table, she grabbed a bowl of water and a clean rag. Turning to face the sleeping man once again, she sighed in worry.

She lightly placed her body on the small section of the bed next to his torso. Bulma reached forward and softly pulled at the tape across his chest. It was holding a piece of gauze where his blood had just begun to seep entirely through the thick material. She was relieved to see that the wound had begun to scab over and seemed to be in its final stages of leaking. She smiled to herself and placed her hand in the cool water to grab the soaked rag. The trickling of water was the only noise in the room as she squeezed the excess water from the object. She brought the object to his skin and began to gently dab his wound.

During her menstruations, an uncontrollable feeling powered through her body. It built behind her eyes the strongest and she felt its culmination as tears sprang out furiously. She leaned forward onto his abdomen and allowed herself to delve into her sorrow. Laying her arms on his body, she cradled her head onto her forearms. The last few days had been overwhelming for the heiress. She had lost her boyfriend and she had nearly lost whatever Vegeta was to her. She sniffled loudly at the thought, but continued sobbing.

Bulma was not sure what the Saiyan was to her. She did recognize the absolute fear that had engulfed her body when the sound of the explosion racked her home. She had thought that the man would be dead. The idea of never seeing his confident smirk again had forced her to shuffle through the jagged pieces of rubble to find him. Through her watery eyes, she looked at the palms of her hands. They were still marred with dozens of small scratches. Relief had flooded her body when he emerged from the aftermath of the explosion. She had not lost her Saiyan Prince.

Bulma twisted her head to the side and looked up at the still unconscious man. She remembered the fact that Vegeta intended to leave the planet after the androids. She pouted at the thought and blinked slowly as she ran her eyes over his face. _I will lose him_, she thought to herself. If she didn't lost him to the androids, she would lose him to whatever waited for him in space. A few more tears snuck over her face and she frowned lightly at her sadness. She had known his intentions all along. Would he really make her happy if he stayed? If she somehow had the ability to keep the man planet side, she was sure he would resent her. She pulled herself from on top of him and placed the rag back in to the bowl.

Looking at him again, she realized that she would never meet another man like him. There would never be a man that could handle her temper like him. No one could ever mentally spar like he did. She brought a hand to her lips and thought, _but is all that necessary?_ It was fun, but would she miss it when it was gone? As she contemplated these questions, she slowly realized the truth. No matter the answers, Vegeta would always be a man she would compare all others to.

* * *

><p>He was used to waking from a near death experience fully healed and ready to train. But the Prince had never woken to caring faces. The foolish woman looked horrible. Her hair was a mass of tangles and her face had obtained an unattractive pastiness. Vegeta hated the idea that she was watching over him like a child. He didn't require her help to heal, and whether he was fully healed or not would not deter him from taking part in his favorite activity.<p>

He grimaced as he walked down the white corridor. Each of his muscles protested in disagreement; each of his scrapes seared in hot pain. He blocked out the sensations and with pure determination, he arrived in his new gravity room. A small amount of appreciation attempted to enter his thoughts, but he pushed it aside and merely focused on his one and only goal. He would become a Super Saiyan.

After multiple interruptions from his infuriating engineer and disruptions caused by his own weakness, he finally hit the large red button which signified the end of his day. He took a deep satisfied breath as the room returned to its natural color. He didn't attempt to distinguish the beads of sweat and blood which trickled down his body. He would eat, sleep and return to training.

The sun barely acknowledged the day as the sky was hued in the dark dawn of early morning. Birds chirped loudly in his ears and intensified the pounding in his head. He tried to clear his head and focus on his immediate goal: food. He entered the darkened room and pried open the fridge with too much force. The bottles collided loudly and caused another bout of throbbing in his head. He squeezed his eyes tightly and felt a rumble of irritation bubble up his chest. He reached forward and grabbing a carton of milk, he ripped plastic top from the lid. The cold liquid ran down his throat in direct contrast to the sweltering heat which emanated from his body. After downing the entire carton, he threw the empty object behind him and was rewarded with a small squeak. He deliberately ignored the noise and pulled a plastic container from the top shelf. Once the lid was off, he sniffed the contents warily.

"Geez," said a feminine voice behind him. "You're a mess, just sit down." The owner to the voice then appeared beside him and tried to grab the container from him. He once again ignored her and grabbed a small rolled object from the coveted object. Shoving it into his mouth, he ripped the container from her grasp and sat at the table. He refused to acknowledge her concern or anger as he purposefully kept his full attention on his food.

Incessantly annoying beeping was emitting from the heating device behind him. He irrationally blamed the blue haired woman for the head splitting noise, but refrained from interacting with her. As she set down a full warm plate in front of him she asked, "Can I have that now, caveman?" He allowed the retrieval and let out a deep breath. He had pushed himself hard today, but refused to admit that it may have been too hard. He looked at his forearm. His normally bronze skin was painted a darker hue by dried blood. His skin felt constrained by the tacky substance, and he felt the innate desire to wash the pungent smell from his body.

He shoveled food into his mouth indiscriminately until full plates stopped appearing in front of him. Then he rose from his seat, roughly pushing the chair with the back of his knees. Ignoring the woman and her babbling, he ascended the stairs and slammed his bedroom door to block her speech.

Vegeta turned the shower knob to full heat and peeled off his dirty shorts. Stepping into the steaming water, he closed his eyes and leaned his weight onto his outstretched arm. He told himself he would only quit a training session when he was unable to continue. He had been soft while on this planet and had allowed himself to hold their standard hours.

Exiting the bathroom, he stiffly pulled on shorts and stretched out upon his bed. He stared blankly at the ceiling and cleared his mind of all thoughts but one. He would reach Super Saiyan status and no longer allow the temporary distractions and pleasures of this world consume his energy.

* * *

><p>Bulma hesitated with her knuckles hovering next to his door. <em>He must know I'm here<em>, she thought to herself. Other times she was in this position he would yank the door open before she had the chance to knock. She had heard the shower turn off and now no noise emitted from the room.

She sighed softly and knocked on the door lightly. Looking down at the small bag she held, she hoped he would allow her to look at his wounds. In the kitchen, his appearance had frightened her. He looked like a man who had just completed a bloody rampage, but she knew it was all his blood. After several attempts throughout the previous day to convince the man to stop training, she had given up and slumped onto the couch in defeat. Vegeta would do what he wished no matter the consequence. She had not imagined he would train all day and night. She didn't even know his stomach could hold out that long.

There was no response to her knock, so she turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open wide enough to look inside. In the soft glow that filtered through his shrouded window, she saw Vegeta lying completely still on top of his covers. Opening the door enough to fit through, she closed the door behind her and approached the seemingly sleeping man. She watched his slow rhythmic breathing as his chest rose and fell in steady secession. He had cleaned himself, but his wounds still leaked a bright red blood. She bit her lip lightly and placed the bag on the floor next to her feet. Reaching into it, she retrieved some gauze and tape. Bulma looked at his expressionless face and bit her lip slightly. She approached his bare chest with the gauze and was startled by his rumbling voice.

"Get out." His face remained motionless except for the slight movement of his lips.

Bulma put her clenched hands on her hips and retorted, "At least let me make sure you're not bleeding to death." Her voice was harsh and she felt her face flushing with anger. She had spent the last days worrying about the reckless man and he wouldn't allow her this small recompense. He didn't respond and she took this as invitation enough.

She expelled a huff of breath through her nose and sat next to his hip facing the stagnant man. His face was as stoic as possible, his breathing still even and unlabored. Bulma turned her attention to his bleeding cuts and began taping gauze to the injuries. She had never had the opportunity to examine his body so closely and methodically as she had these past few days. Asking him to roll over was met with acceptance as he did as asked without argument.

Bulma sucked in a quick breath of air as she saw his back up close for the first time. It was littered with long straight scars. Some originated from deep wounds, other were fine hair width marks. She swallowed through her constrained throat out of pity. Her imagination broke lose as she slowly covered the new injuries with gauze. Every scar ran in a downward direction, some exactly parallel to others. A small whimper escaped her closed throat as the idea dawned on her. _Whippings_, she thought to herself in disgust. She felt his muscles tighten beneath her hands and she attempted to continue her work callously.

It was easy for her to forget that Vegeta had not just been a reigning Prince, but also a captive. For years of his life he had been forced into servitude under that disgusting lizard. Given the man's stubborn nature, she imagined these scars were a result of disobedience. Her chest swelled in respect for his strength of mind and body. She then berated herself, it wasn't some sense of moral obligation that caused these scars. It was probably a result of his pride; His abominable pride.

She felt the vibrations of his speech before she heard him. "You're done." His voice was passionless with hints of extreme exhaustion.

Bulma patted his back lightly and with a chipper voice said, "Yep." She stood up quickly, grabbed her bag and lightly walked out of his room. Too many emotions were soaring in her head. Too far from her to fully distinguish, but close enough for her to feel. Why was she so quick to give him compassion? She understood how the man was twisted into being. Years of superiority, years of torture and now tranquility. It must be devastatingly frustrating to the man.

Once the woman closed the door to her bedroom, she sat quietly on her bed and stared at the plush carpet lost in thought. She had to admit to herself that her infatuation with the Prince was dangerous. Her world had begun to revolve around her selfish houseguest. He commanded her attention and concern much more than Yamcha had ever managed and this was frightening. She swallowed the fear that began to build at the thought. _Infatuation isn't the same as love_, she told herself obstinately. She was not in irreparable danger, but she knew that she was close.

Bulma sat up and pushed that train of thought from her mind. Once the man was healthy, she would think about the implications of her absorption with him. As she opened her door and looked at his closed one, the familiar concern engulfed her again. She shook her head slowly and turned towards her destination.

Her mother was already cooking a massive amount of food for their guest. The smell of fresh coffee drifted around the room and beckoned. After pouring her cup, she leaned against the counter and watched her mother's expert hands. Her whole house was bending to the will of the man. Sighing, she softly said, "I think I'll stay home today."

Her mother's bright face turned to hers and smiling sweetly, she returned, "You deserve that honey."

* * *

><p>Bulma agreed fiercely. Midmorning found Bulma submerged chest deep in the cool water of their backyard pool. She was designing a circuitry diagram while leaning over the edge of the pool and sipping on cool ice tea. She found it hard to imagine a better way to spend her time. Her peace of mind quickly disintegrated as the kitchen door slammed shut and an agitated and exhausted alien stormed by her.<p>

"Hey," she shouted in surprise and anger. It had barely been four hours since she had seen him last. As he continued on his path undeterred by her shout, she swam to the deep end and pulled herself up the ladder. Her feet padded against the hot concrete and then sunk into the wet grass. She jumped into his path and after taking a few deep breaths she hostilely addressed him, "Are you trying to kill yourself, you dope?"

He merely stepped to the side and continued towards the gravity room, but Bulma surprised herself with her speed and blocked his path again. "Do you have any idea how much I labored over you these past few days?" She felt her face begin to get hot and was sure it was progressing into a deep shade of angry red. She had expected no answer, but she hadn't expected to be completely ignored. His attention was focused on an object behind her, and as she quickly turned her head to look in that direction, she realized he was staring at his gravity room. She huffed loudly and continued, "You could at least pay me some respect and let yourself heal!"

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't look at her as he curtly responded. "You have none of my respect." His voice was as deep and resonant as usual, but Bulma felt a twinge of emotion come from the usually impassive man. It angered her even further that the only affected response she received from him was out of contempt.

Bulma stomped one of foot into the ground and felt little bits of mud leap onto her calf. "Silly me, I thought you couldn't make that fact any more obvious," she was now uncontrollably yelling into the man's face. "But here I am, amazed by you again!" After the words came out, she thanked her rage induced flush for hiding the blush that she was sure mingled on her skin.

He gritted his teeth and through them spoke slow, sharp words, "I will not die." His jaw line grew tighter as he continued, "not by tin cans or your ridiculous inventions."

Her anger was rolling through her and collecting with each second that passed to form a hard, thick mass of ugly, whirling emotions. "If my inventions are so ridiculous, then why are you so obsessed with them?" If she were honest with herself, she would have realized that nothing could be said to deter her from having a brawl with her houseguest. He was just belligerent enough to comply.

He balled up his fists and turned his head away from her. While focusing on a distant tree he barked, "I don't have time for this, woman."

In pure frustration, Bulma shoved his shoulder with her palm and responded, "Yeah, you only have time to kill yourself!"

Vegeta's attention snapped to her. His eyes were ablaze with anger and determination. He raised part of his lip in disgust and spat out, "Neither do I want or need your concern." He was nearly shaking from fury and looked as if his anger would be satiated if he hit something.

Bulma had never been blessed with knowing when to quit. She smugly retorted, "Well, as soon as you learn to succeed by yourself, I'll be happy to pour less energy into you!" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her nose at the glowering man.

A deep rumbling grew from his chest and gurgled in his throat. He took a step towards her small frame. The edges of his eyes were red from sleep deprivation and prolonged pain. He looked especially maniacal after her last comment. Bulma felt the fear of prey explode up her spine, but forced herself to remain unaffected. "What? Now you're going to resort to force to beat a little human woman?" She dragged her gaze across his form derisively and continued, "pathetic."

His hand shot forward and grabbed her arm just above her elbow. He dragged her arm up and towards him to slowly say, "Stay away from me." Her body was cocked in an awkward position which deprived from her the ability to remain impassive. Bulma released a small noise of discomfort as her arm throbbed in an aching response to his grip. She looked into his eyes with both irritation and confusion. She tried to tug her arm from him, but was rewarded with a slight shake from her captor. His eyes lowered from her eyes, but then quickly returned. In the same methodical speech, he continued, "Say it."

Bulma froze as the words left him. _Say what_? She questioned herself. What did she want to say? She was worried about his current health and training regimen. That she had nightmares about him dying when the androids came and then if he survived, she worried about him leaving after the androids. That most of all, she feared that she was falling for him. Her anger evaporated as she mulled over whatever he wanted her to say. She felt her face crumple slightly and pulled her chin towards her chest. With her free arm, she pushed her palm against his hot chest. When she peaked at his face through her lashes, she saw his face had still retained the same determined and angry appearance. "Let go." When the words left her they came out as a downtrodden squeak. Confusion entered his eyes at her defeat.

Vegeta dragged her further into his frame and roughly yet calmly said, "You'll leave me be." Bulma moved her head with small incremental nods and frowned in her sadness. As he released her, she felt her body deflate. He stood before her with his typical proud posture. Smirking down at her defeat, he spitefully added, "now whose pathetic, woman." With a decisive turn, he walked around her and continued to his gravity room.

* * *

><p><em>Okay<em>, Bulma thought to herself in the safety of her bathtub, _maybe I am in trouble_. After she crumbled at the idea of sharing her feelings with her houseguest, she was now willing to accept her predicament. She was actually falling for the rude, arrogant and hazardous Prince. The heiress had allowed herself the excuse of 'preparing for the androids' while pampering to the man's every need. But in reality, she wanted to please the unappeasable man.

She brought her hand to her forehead and cradled her throbbing head in her hands. Bulma had always prided herself of being smart, but in this instance she had been completely brainless. She took her hand from her head and traced the outline of the bruise that had now formed on her arm. Not only was the object of her affection emotionally abusive, he was physically a threat as well. She sighed and submerged her head into the water.

Here the sounds of the outside world were dulled. She couldn't hear the familiar humming from the gravity room. It was almost as if the world around her had dimmed and could be momentarily forgotten. She emerged from her cocoon and took a large gulp of the humid bathroom air.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, Yes. It's an update and a conclusion of the second part of my "three years" attempt. Sorry for the delay.<p> 


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